re her friends.
The result you saw for yourselves when you dined at our house.

"I inform you of what has happened without making any comment. Mr.
Germaine's narrative has already told you that I foresaw the deplorable
consequences which might follow our marriage, and that I over and over
again (God knows at what cost of misery to myself) refused to be his
wife. It was only when my poor little green flag had revealed us to each
other that I lost all control over myself. The old time on the banks of
the lake came back to me; my heart hungered for its darling of happier
days; and I said Yes, when (as you may think) I ought to have still said
No. Will you take poor old Dame Dermody's view of it, and believe that
the kindred spirits, once reunited, could be parted no more? Or will you
take my view, which is simpler still? I do love him so dearly, and he is
so fond of me!

"In the meantime, our departure from England seems to be the wisest
course that we can adopt. As long as this woman lives she will say again
of me what she has said already, whenever she can find the opportunity.
My child might hear the reports about her mother, and might be injured
by them when she gets older. We propose to take up our abode, for a time
at least, in the neighborhood of Naples. Here, or further away yet, we
may hope to live without annoyance among a people whose social law
is the law of mercy. Whatever may happen, we have always one last
consolation to sustain us--we have love.

"You talked of traveling on the Continent when you dined with us. If you
should wander our way, the English consul at Naples is a friend of my
husband's, and he will have our address. I wonder whether we shall ever
meet again? It does seem hard to charge the misfortunes of my life on
me, as if they were my faults.

"Speaking of my misfortunes, I may say, before I close this letter, that
the man to whom I owe them is never likely to cross my path again. The
Van Brandts of Amsterdam have received certain information that he is
now on his way to New Zealand. They are determined to prosecute him if
he returns. He is little likely to give them the opportunity.

"The traveling-carriage is at the door: I must say good-by. My husband
sends to you both his kindest regards and best wishes. His manuscript
will be quite safe (when you leave London) if you send it to his
bankers, at the address inclosed. Think of me sometimes--and think of me
kindly. I appeal confidently t